


Do It the Right Way 'Round

by Eva



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby!Fic, F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eva/pseuds/Eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes is pregnant, and it's Geri Lestrade's fault.  According to Sherlock, anyway.  Entry #32 for the Mystrade Fanworks Fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do It the Right Way 'Round

*********

Geri Lestrade had been surprised to realise that she liked Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft was funny, if you didn’t mind the jokes being a bit cruel, and kind, if kindness could be ruthless. She was sweet in incredibly creepy ways, and of course entirely brilliant in the way that only those of the Holmes persuasion were. She was also a knock-out, if you liked women with long necks and longer legs, and lovely long hair. Geri was unreasonably jealous of her at times, and at other times unreasonably jealous of anyone who talked with her. Or slept with her.

“They’ve got to start giving you ugly PAs,” Geri said wearily as she and Mycroft watched her latest, a very pretty young woman called Anthea, walk away, already typing efficiently on her Blackberry. “Or neutered ones.”

“What’s wrong with a little office romance?” Mycroft asked, smiling blandly. “They’re only with me for training, anyway. Never had one I’d like to keep on.”

“No, then you might have to go out to meet your next conquest,” Geri groused, running a hand through her own short hair. “There’s something to be said for monogamy, you know.”

“Yes, that it’s boring.” Mycroft patted Geri’s shoulder in her special patronising fashion. “Besides, that’s why I keep you around, Geraldine.”

“Because I’m boring?”

“Almost.” Mycroft swung her umbrella up, suddenly all business. “Thank you very much for your time, Detective Inspector.”

“My pleasure, Ms. Holmes.” Geri didn’t take offense at the dismissal; she was very accustomed to Mycroft’s sudden shifting of role from friend to colleague. It had to do with rules, Geri thought; Mycroft lived by them and--ha--ruled by them. She liked control, probably a little too much.

But Mycroft was not her problem anymore; securing her crime scene was. Now that she’d been “distracted” long enough not to have to notice Sherlock and John slinking off.

*********

Geri knew Mycroft didn’t sleep with half the people she allowed rumours to claim.

“Attraction,” Mycroft had told her one night over wine, “creates a power imbalance. Our society having evolved the way it did, I suffer a lack of power merely by being female, so I must make up for it.”

Geri had shaken her head. “I thought it was hard in the Met.”

Mycroft had smiled and held up the glass. “To us? For beating the odds?”

“You more than me,” Geri had said.

Geri couldn’t imagine what machinations Mycroft had had to take part in to create her current position--she’d only been trusted enough recently to learn that Mycroft wasn’t actually with Transport. That she was the working brain behind the British Government.

“So, should I ask you the next time I want to go on holiday?” she’d asked, and Mycroft had snorted into her glass.

She knew that Mycroft was seeing a younger man, one who was being groomed for the Home Office. Sometimes it seemed Mycroft took a perverse delight in making sure Geri knew these things.

“Nothing frightens men so much as a woman with agency,” Mycroft had said, “particularly sexual agency.”

“You’re terrifying, and you’re drunk,” Geri had told her.

Because she was terrifying. Geri had always been able to keep her head: through the births and childhood of four siblings; through two spectacularly failed relationships; through the bumps and barbed wire of carving out a career in the Met.

But here she was, losing it over Mycroft Holmes, and all she could do was fall back and try to defend her heart.

“I suppose you’ll have to take me back to yours,” Mycroft had said with a sly smirk, and Geri had rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.

“I’ll see you back to your big black car, but then you’re on your own.”

*********

That was the end of it, or should have been, had Anthea not texted her later in the week to RSVP for the usual Saturday breakfast meeting at the cafe. Even then, Geri had no idea anything was wrong; she just thought Anthea, being new, was being over-careful.

She should have known. Well, she should have suspected.

Geri grabbed her usual scone and a coffee and got a tall table near the corner, setting her helmet on the large windowsill. She looked out wistfully into the bright morning; there were things to be done at home, clothes to be washed and dishes to be done, but that could wait until tomorrow, couldn’t it?

“First things first,” Mycroft said, angling her way around to sit in the corner. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Geri replied automatically, sipping her coffee and raising her eyebrow. “Aren’t you getting something? Don’t tell me you’re dieting.”

“I never diet on Saturdays.” Mycroft looked tired, and that was worrying. “I’m not hungry.”

“New PA wears silk stockings?” Geri asked. “You’re never hungry when you’re on the prowl.”

“Do be serious for a moment, Geraldine,” Mycroft half-snapped, half-pleaded. Geri put down her scone and folded her hands on the table, lips pursed, waiting.

Mycroft looked down and away. “Perhaps I should get something.”

“No, you have my attention now. Out with it,” Geri ordered. She picked up a spoon and rolled it between her fingers, keeping a dark gaze fixed on her friend.

Mycroft made one of her strange little expressions, squinching up her face, and then sighed. “The warehouse?”

“We can’t talk about it here?” Geri set the spoon down. “What did you do?”

Mycroft stood up and stared down at Geri imperiously. “Come.”

Geri scooped up her helmet. “I’ll meet you. Not leaving my bike.”

Mycroft shook her head, but gestured with the umbrella for Geri to precede her.

*********

Geri clutched at her hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking, he’s a damned good shag,” Mycroft snarled. “Are you going to help me?”

“Help you? Help you what? How could I possibly help you?” Geri stared ‘round at anything that wasn’t a pissed off Mycroft Holmes. “There’s no helping you. You’re an adult. You’re a grown woman. Go figure it out! Leave me out of it.”

“Geraldine.”

“Don’t just say that!” Geri half-yelled. “Oh, Christ, I’m getting hysterical.”

“Yes, and it’s highly irritating.”

“Don’t you talk to me about irritating! I have to deal with you! I have to deal with your brother and now I have to deal with your pregnancy!”

Mycroft looked suddenly very pleased. “So you will help me.”

“Oh, Christ,” Geri said again, and hugged Mycroft suddenly, ignoring the way she stiffened. “I’m getting emotional.”

“Yes, I noticed.” Mycroft’s tone was pure Arctic. Geri sniffed and stepped back, wiping at her eyes, and Mycroft swallowed hard. “Don’t cry, Geraldine.”

“I can’t help it! You’re pregnant!” Geri wailed, and fell back into Mycroft’s unwilling embrace. Mycroft very hesitantly petted her hair.

“There, there,” she said uncertainly. “Aren’t you supposed to be consoling me?”

Geri’s voice was muffled by Mycroft’s shoulder. “I thought the only way to console you was with sex.”

“This is not the time to be calling me a slut, Geraldine.”

“You’re not a slut, Mycroft. It’s just that everyone you know is.” Geri suddenly stood upright, eyes wide. “Who was it? Are you telling him?”

“Never mind, and no,” Mycroft said loftily. “He doesn’t factor into this.”

“Are you--” Geri stopped, swallowed hard, and tried again. “Are you keeping it?”

“I’m forty-two,” Mycroft snapped.

“That isn’t an answer.”

“I don’t like it when you interrogate me.”

Geri rolled her eyes. “And yet you stick around.”

“I am.” Mycroft drew in a deep breath. “Keeping it, I mean. Mummy always wanted grandchildren.”

Geri gaped at her.

*********

The door flew open and crashed against the wall, making Geri jump and curse. “Fuck, Sherlock!”

“What has she done?” Sherlock demanded. John was trailing after him, mouthing apologies.

“What has who done?” Geri jerked her chin at the few constables peering around the door, telling them without words to back off. “Some of us--”

“Mycroft,” Sherlock snapped, his voice low, leaning over her desk. “What has Mycroft done?”

Geri felt her face go cold, and then hot, and she stared down at her desk in mortification, seeing nothing. Sherlock drew in a long, hissing breath and John tried to intervene.

“Ah, Sherlock? Probably not our business.”

“This has nothing to do with Lestrade. Lestrade just knows about it,” Sherlock said, and Geri chanced a look at him only to be caught in his most compelling gaze. “She hasn’t visited me in a month. What did you let her do?”

“I didn’t let her do anything!” Geri cried out in horror, pushing her chair back. But of course, of course Mycroft wouldn’t tell Sherlock, wouldn’t go near him before she was ready for him to know, and of course Geri would get the short end of that stick as well!

“She’s not sick; but she did something stupid. That’s not like Mycroft,” Sherlock murmured, watching Geri’s every move, and Geri knew how much trouble she would be in if she let this continue and stood up with a thunderous scowl, arms wrapped protectively around her lower torso.

“Get the hell out of my office,” she said, her voice shaking only slightly.

Sherlock’s eyes bulged out of his head. “You let her get pregnant?”

Geri’s mouth fell open and she heard a ringing in her ears.

“What?” John said, closing the door at long last. Geri backed away another step as Sherlock stomped around the desk.

“You were supposed to keep her out of trouble!” he said furiously. “What were you thinking?”

“I--” Geri couldn’t find any words.

“This is ridiculous!” Sherlock half-shouted at the ceiling. “This is the most--this is too far, even for you, sister mine!”

“Mycroft is pregnant?” John said blankly.

“This is all your fault,” Sherlock said, leaning very close to Geri.

“How is it Lestrade’s fault?” John asked. “No offense, but Mycroft’s all grown up.”

Sherlock didn’t answer. He merely pointedly his finger viciously at Geri’s face and said, “You had best fix it. And quickly.”

He whirled around then and stalked out of the office, door bouncing against the wall again, and John hesitated for a moment. “Really pregnant?” he whispered at Geri, who hadn’t moved.

She came back to life suddenly and shouted, “Get out!” at him, which had him scurrying off. Then she sank back into her chair and let her head thud down on the desk.

*********

Mycroft had been through three doctors by her third month, none of which had been able to help her with her nausea to her satisfaction. “Wait it out,” Geri told her, ripping a croissant apart. “It’ll go away on its own.”

“You are not helpful, either,” Mycroft growled. She grabbed one of the croissant bits and started to nibble on it, eyes darting around the cafe. “It’s terribly inconvenient.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not about you.”

“I can’t afford this--this--” Mycroft bit into another piece of croissant viciously and waved the other hand vaguely.

“You can afford quite a bit, actually,” Geri said.

“That’s not what I meant!” Mycroft actually slapped her palm down on the table, and Geri bit the inside of her cheek hard. “I am snapping, Geraldine! At everyone! And that’s when I’m not crying!”

“It’s normal,” Geri said. She grabbed Mycroft’s hand before she could slam it down again. “Mycroft. It’s normal. This is what happens when you have a baby.”

Mycroft had closed her eyes, and she was breathing very rapidly through her nose. “Warehouse.”

“I am not having all of our conversations at your bloody warehouse.”

“Geraldine.”

“We’re perfectly comfortable here.” Geri reached for a bit of the croissant and got her hand slapped. “Fucking hell! Mycroft!”

“I had to buy new bras,” Mycroft hissed, and shoved the rest of the croissant in her mouth.

Geri sat back, trying to imagine Mycroft shopping for bras and failing. “You sent Anthea?”

“How could I send Anthea?” Mycroft demanded through the pastry. “Was I to let her have at me with a tape measure first?”

“I imagine you’d have enjoyed it,” Geri said tartly, and got a sharp kick in the ankle. “Fuck!”

Mycroft looked about ready to leap across the table and dig her nails into Geri’s eyes. “I am gaining weight.”

“That’s normal,” Geri said again, and then her jaw dropped in horror as Mycroft’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”

“Warehouse,” Mycroft whispered pathetically, and sniffed.

Geri was already up, helmet in one hand and a great bunch of serviettes in the other.

*********

“She’s gained around five kilos,” Geri said, looking around the pub with hunted eyes. If she saw even a hint of Anthea, she was going to bolt.

John nodded, taking a healthy gulp of his drink. “Sounds about right.”

“She made me go to the shops with her.”

“What for?”

“Maternity wear.” Geri looked into her empty glass and took John’s, ignoring his protests. “I had to shop for maternity wear with Mycroft Holmes.”

“You could text Sherlock,” John said with some bitterness. His complaint, in going out to the pub, had been that Sherlock was spending all his time following Mycroft, in what was hopefully the only situational turn-around of their lives. Mycroft, much better suited for hiding out, was leading him on a merry chase while simultaneously invading every available moment of Geri’s life, and some that were unavailable, as well.

“She would have me murdered. No, she would have me sacked, and then she would force me to go to her appointments with her. Well, more of her appointments.” Geri sighed and held her hands out prayerfully as the girl exchanged their glasses. “This is beyond friendship, John. I am the substitute father.”

John actually grinned. “It’s the hair. And the general air of helplessness.”

“I have paint swatches in my wallet. For the nursery. They appeared in my office.”

Now he was laughing, the bastard. “We should have been out to the pub ages ago.”

Geri slumped low. “Did you know, the reason my cases have been so--” she paused, searching for the word.

“Banal,” John supplied.

“That one of Sherlock’s? Yes, banal. Anthea’s been vetting them.”

John shook his head. “Sherlock is going to do something terrible to Mycroft.”

Geri scoffed. “He’ll never catch up to her. Mycroft’s got his leads scheduled out for another month.”

“Really,” Sherlock drawled, leaning over Geri’s shoulder and speaking directly into her ear.

“You bloody fucks!” Geri gasped, spilling her beer all over her lap.

John grimaced and held out his hands out in a placating fashion. “We’ve got to hear the news somehow. We’re nearly uncles, Geri.”

Sherlock held his phone out and took a picture, his arm wrapped around Geri’s shoulders. “Now, tell us the sex or I’ll send this photo to Mycroft. And those paint swatches; I want to see them.”

*********

-Crying. A.

Geri put her phone down and did not slam her head on the desk.

“Boss?” Sally asked, leaning in the door. “Potential witness to interview.”

The phone beeped again.

“You take it,” Geri sighed.

Sally nodded sympathetically. “Girlfriend not doing so well?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Geri snapped, staring at the phone.

-Refuses to leave office. A.

“Right. Give her my best!” Sally left before Geri could yell at her, and the phone beeped again, too.

-Threatened Germany twice. A.

Geri typed back fast.

\--Not where Germany could hear?

-Not sure. A.

“Oh, fucking hell.” Geri got up and slammed out of her office, hardly noticing the officers scattering in her wake. She’d spent more time in Mycroft’s car, office, warehouse, other office, various doctors’, and various shops than in her own office or flat the past two months, trying to prevent the destruction of global politics, economics, finance--name it, Mycroft had attempted to sabotage it in a rage. Geri finally had a weak, incomplete understanding of just how much of the world as she knew it hung on Mycroft’s word, and it terrified her. Especially when she thought of how likely it was that Mycroft would still be directing the world’s affairs while in labour.

“We will all need an epidural,” Geri muttered, scanning the street. There was the car, moving to the kerb, and Geri grabbed at the door before it had fully stopped.

Anthea tilted her head in greeting but said nothing; this was usual, and Geri liked it fine. She leaned back against the seat and stared out the window.

Mycroft’s office wasn’t locked. It didn’t have to be. No one but Geri would enter without being summoned. She opened the door carefully and sidled in, just in case Mycroft was in another mood to throw things.

She wasn’t. She was sitting with her head down, hands tangled into her hair, which was inexplicably loose--she always wore it up when working. Geri walked around the desk and knelt down in front of her, carefully pulling her hands free.

“I didn’t think it would be so difficult,” Mycroft whispered hoarsely without looking up.

Geri gently kissed the fingers of her right hand. “You’re a nutter, Mycroft Holmes.”

Mycroft looked at her, eyes wide and red, and sniffed. “This is hardly the time, Geraldine.”

“I know.” Geri sat back, grinning wryly. “You’ve apparently got something to apologise to Germany for.”

“Oh--” Mycroft turned her head, biting her lip against what Geri suspected, with delight, to be a curse. “Go on, then.” She sniffed, pushed her hair back, and straightened her shoulders. “Dinner?”

“After you fix whatever it is you did,” Geri said, standing up with a feeling of great accomplishment.

*********

The next time the car came ‘round, Sherlock was inside, not Anthea.

“What’s happened?” Geri demanded, frozen in the act of climbing in.

“I told you to fix it, not muck it up beyond all saving,” Sherlock snapped. “Get in!”

He didn’t say anything as the car wove through traffic, taking a path Geri didn’t know. They were in a residential area, a nice one, when the car stopped. Sherlock got out of the car quickly, grimacing, and motioned for Geri to hurry.

“You’re not entirely a waste of carbon, Lestrade,” he said, almost conversationally. “I have no objections. But you have got to stop stringing her along. You should have given her an answer months ago.”

“What?” Geri said weakly as they walked up to the small, pretty, ivy-covered house. Sherlock rapped on the door before opening it and pushed Geri inside.

“She’s in the study, near the back,” he said, and shut the door behind her. Geri stared at it blankly. After a long moment she turned, taking in the darkened hallway; the curtains had been pulled, but sunlight found a way in around the edges, illuminating thin swaths along the hardwood floors and rich, cherry wood furniture.

She walked along as if in a dream, until she met a closed door and heard soft music behind it. Pulling it open, she saw Mycroft sitting on a small leather chesterfield, wearing a dressing gown over pyjamas of some sort, the round bump of her belly peeking out. She was listening to something with violins in.

“Mycroft?”

“Sherlock went and found you, did he?” Mycroft said in turn, her voice dull and thick from crying.

“He said I was to give you an answer,” Geri said uncertainly, carefully moving closer.

Mycroft laughed harshly and covered her face with her arm. “I already have your answer! God--” she choked, and then fought for control. “I know that I’m difficult. I’m impossible. I’m not worth the effort.”

“What are you talking about?” Geri asked, bewildered. She sank onto the other end of the chesterfield and flinched at the look on Mycroft’s face.

“I wore skirts for you,” Mycroft hissed, her eyes dark with anger and yet more tears. “I flirted with everything under the sun--you were jealous, but you didn’t do anything! Geraldine, I asked you to help me through my pregnancy, to be there for me and the baby--” She drew in a deep, gasping breath. “What did you think I was doing?”

“I don’t--” Geri squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but the world hadn’t changed. “You wanted me to--”

“I want you to be with me,” Mycroft said in a low tone.

Geri blinked rapidly. “You couldn’t have asked me? Just, you know, asked me?”

Mycroft sniffed, and wiped at her face with a handkerchief. “That would have been inelegant.”

“And now, what? Your eyes are swollen up and you’ve snot everywhere and you’re minutes from labour--really, Mycroft, what did you expect?” Geri asked, leaning forward. “Did you expect me to take you in my arms and kiss you?”

Mycroft’s face was a rictus of anger and shame. “I didn’t--”

“Because I am going to, unless you tell me to stop,” Geri said, and wiped at her own face. “You prat. You--you git. You completely inexcusable--”

Mycroft put her hand over Geri’s mouth. “Shut up, Geraldine.”

*********

Sherlock had yet to give up the baby.

“May I see my daughter, brother mine?” Mycroft asked wearily from her bed.

“Shut up, Mycroft,” he said absently, still staring in utter fascination. “John, is she meant to do that?”

“What, breathe?”

“Very quickly.”

“Yes, they tend to do that.” John rolled his eyes at Geri. She grinned at him, still feeling a bit weak after the adrenalin rush.

“She’s making fists.”

“Also normal.”

Mycroft tugged on Geri’s hand, which she hadn’t given up since Sherlock swooped in to hold his niece. “He is making me nervous.”

“All the doctors, even John here, say she’s fine,” Geri said, though her heart was beating faster, too. “Sherlock, hand Raina over.”

“You’ll have her for the rest of her life,” Sherlock argued, though he swayed closer. “Let me give her a proper hello.”

“It’s been ten minutes,” Geri said, but she smiled as Sherlock sat down carefully next to Mycroft, holding the baby so she could see her mother, and Mycroft could see her.

“You have no say in it for another seven months,” Sherlock told her loftily, though there was humour dancing in his eyes. “Poor Raina. Your mothers went about it all backwards.”

“Mycroft’s fault,” Geri said automatically, earning a sharp tug. “Oi!”

“Not as bad as what Mummy did,” Mycroft sighed, and smirked when Geri and John stared at her, and Sherlock snorted with laughter. “Oh, that’s a story that will have to wait ‘til Mummy can tell it.”

“Not fair,” John said. Sherlock shifted, handed the baby back to Mycroft, and grinned up at John.

“We should get one,” he said, and John’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, do it the right way ‘round,” Geri said, and leaned over to punch him lightly in the shoulder.

*********

fin


End file.
